Insignificant
by StarKid McFly
Summary: They can't save everyone. But sometimes, they can't forgive themselves either, and sometimes it's hard to feel significant when surrounded by such glorious achievements.


**Hello! *nervous face* so this is the first Thunderbirds fanfic I have ever written, but it's for my friend Baao (idk if she wants her real name published so there), who is so in love with Scott Tracy that I'm surprised that she manages to get anything done in the day. Anyway, this was really fun to write, but I'm really nervous about it for a number of reasons, but I love writing a good bit of cheese so I hope you're all okay with it! Anyway I'll stop wittering on now and let you read it. Thank you!**

**Rocky  
xx**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds. Except Gordon. I might keep him.**

Scott felt numb.

Though the communication channel between Thunderbirds One and Two was open, he paid barely any attention to the sounds of his brothers, of Virgil and Alan bickering whilst Gordon teased the pair of them lightly. He didn't notice the slightly strained tone of Virgil's voice, combatted with a warmth in Gordon's. He hardly heard Alan whine, or joke about how next mission he would be riding in One on the way home. No, every time Scott closed his eyes, he was back in the accident scene, the little girl and her mother teetering on the edge of the cliff as the aftershock slammed through the earth-

Scott jerked in his seat, gasping as he tried to shake himself from his thoughts. His fist tightened on One's controls as he zoned in on his brothers' voices, trying to restore some composure.

"I'm not _saying_ Alan's adopted," Gordon's teasing tone floated through the communication channel, and Scott allowed himself a small smile. "I'm just saying that his face _is_ a bit of a strange shape, and, y'know, I don't have any memories of him being born. You'd think something as traumatic as Alan joining the family would be engrained in my memory."

"I'm not adopted!" That was Alan's voice, and Scott laughed lightly to himself as he heard Virgil and Gordon cackle. Alan had wanted to fly home in One with Scott initially, but Scott had refused on the grounds that he needed the flight home to process everything that had happened. He needed this time to blame himself, to think of all the things that could have happened, that _had_ happened. No, it was better for Alan to deal with Gordon's teasing, something he knew the fourth brother only did to keep the morale up, rather than risk to be infected with Scott's self-hatred.

"Besides, Gordon," Alan continued, and Scott could practically hear Gordon's eyebrows raising, "you're ginger."

"Astute observation."

"No one else in the family is."

"Again, a very astute observation," Gordon replied, his tone mocking yet friendly. "Wow, Sprout, I always wondered how you managed to pilot Three, but with intelligence like _that_…"

"Ugh, Gordon, you're _so annoying_!"

"And you're adopted."

"I'm not adopted! Virg! Tell him I'm not adopted!"

"He's not adopted, Gords," Virgil's voice admonished. "It was more that Mom took one look at him and vowed no more children. She always had fear in her eyes every time she saw you!"

As raucous laughter filled the comm, Scott felt his stomach churn. The mother who had held her daughter had had fear in her eyes, accompanied by that deep love only a mother could express, even as the ground had crumbled away. Scott could see her gaze now. His stomach gave another twist as he took in a sharp intake of breath.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One," Virgil's voice came through, and Scott stopped breathing momentarily. "You okay, Scotty?"

Scott nodded before it occurred to him that his younger brothers could not see him. "Yeah. Yes, I'm fine."

"Okay," Virgil replied, although there was an underlying tone of doubt in his voice. "Are you going in first or am I?"

For a moment, Scott was confused, before he realised that they were overhead of Tracy Island. "You go first. I'll meet you for the debrief in approximately six minutes."

"F.A.B," Virgil replied, followed by the faint shout of "_ho__ld on, I'm not ginger_!" from the second youngest brother, before the connection was cut and Scott was left to his thoughts once again.

The six minutes Scott had approximated passed in a blur, and he could barely remember what he had done whilst landing his 'Bird. His hands had shaken all the way from the silos back up to the house, but his mind had been whirring so much that he had barely registered this. He was faintly aware of getting changed back into his civilian clothes before he had arrived back in the house, a pillow in the face and Gordon's laughter bringing him back to his immediate senses.

"Sorry, Scott," Alan apologised quickly. "I was aiming for Fishface."

"Pretty poor aim," Gordon interjected, his signature grin on his face. "Ha, funnily enough you're the only one in the family who can't throw, Alan. Adopted."

Alan turned to his eldest brother with a forlorn look in his blue eyes, a pout on his face. Under ordinary circumstances, Scott would have joined in the joking, but today he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he pulled Alan into a fierce hug, feeling his brother stiffen in surprise, before pushing him back gently again.

Gordon and Virgil exchanged a look; Alan smiled slightly at Scott before turning back to smack his now unsuspecting immediate older brother in the face with the offending cushion.

"Debrief time, boys," Jeff's voice boomed, before he appeared through the door, clapping his hands together. This was it, the moment Scott had been dreading. Sitting down next to Virgil, Scott threaded his hands together, feeling nauseous and clammy as the connection through to Thunderbird Five was opened and John's smiling face appeared.

Virgil explained the majority of the mission, every now and again allowing room for a worried glance at his eldest brother, which Scott assuaged with a reassuring smile of his own. John did not look convinced, but Scott didn't particularly care what his immediate younger brother thought about him today.

"So we stabilised the building and that was pretty much it," Virgil finished, Jeff smiling fondly at the less than technical ending to his debrief.

"Any damage sustained?"

"Two's right wing and Alan's pride," Gordon pitched in, laughing as Alan aimed to smack him with a pillow, once again missing. "Come on Al, gotta get up earlier than that to catch me out. I'm quick like a cat!" He poked his brother as if to prove his point, laughing as Alan kicked out in response.

"Boys," Jeff admonished, though there was still a faint smile on his face. "The damage to Two."

"Fixable," Virgil replied. "Brains is already working on it."

"Excellent job, boys," Jeff finished, smiling and clapping his hands together. "A successful mission with minimal damage and no fatalities."

Scott felt his heart stop.

"Actually," he said, his voice hoarse from the lack of interaction. "There were two fatalities, Dad." He felt sick as he took in the expressions of his brothers, the same look of loving concern replicated four times over, even if one was transmitted digitally. "The aftershocks made the ground unstable. I tried to give the order for Virgil to get to the girl and her mother, but… but they were unpredictable and… and…" His voice fizzled out, and it took a moment for it to reignite, clinical and distant. "The cliff gave way. Their deaths were instant on impact. No suffering." He couldn't bear to look at any of them, not at the caring expressions of his brothers, but in particular not at the expression of disappointment he expected to adorn his father's face.

"Right," Jeff said, and Scott closed his eyes at the graveness with which the line had been uttered. "Obviously this changes things. Virgil, John, what were your findings? Obviously we will need to examine the statistics set, update the accident report listings… Alan, go and fetch Brains, will you? John, have you got the report-"

He continued in this fashion, his voice distant and emotionless, and Scott felt the crushing sensation of shame taking hold of him. Despite this being his fault, he knew all of a sudden he was no longer needed for this particular debriefing. He had proved himself incompetent, rendered himself insignificant.

Because that was it. He was insignificant. As Gordon laughed, his eyes sparkling and twinkling as bright as his Olympic medal; as Virgil rubbed at Alan's arm, his comforting and kind and incredibly intelligent nature shining through; as John grinned, managing to be completely absorbed in the conversation and yet work with complex machinery at the same time, his natural aptitude and intelligence thrumming as he monitored the world as easy as if he was watching television; as Alan pouted as the rest of them surveyed him with an intense fondness – as his brothers breathed vibrancy and life and proved with every smile, with every look, with every slight movement their vitality and their significance, Scott paled further against them. He was nothing. He was a blot, a blemish on a white sheet, a child wishing on the four impossibly bright stars that sat around him. Scott was insignificant.

Gasping for breath, he excused himself quickly before springing to his feet and rushing to the kitchen, turning on the taps and splashing his face as he heaved a breath. That woman had died because he wasn't strong enough to make the call that would have saved her life. She had plummeted to her fate, arms around her child, because Scott was too weak to prevent it. Their blood was on his hands.

Splashing his face once again, Scott closed his eyes, sucking in shallow breaths as he tried to compose himself.

"I hope you're not trying to drown yourself," a voice behind him said, and Scott started so suddenly that he smacked his head on the tap. Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to lock gazes with Gordon. "I mean," his second youngest brother continued, "if you wanted me to push you in the pool, all you'd have to do is ask."

"Like you could push me in the pool," Scott replied shakily, and Gordon grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You can't blame yourself," he said quietly, and Scott winced slightly. "So don't."

"What, just like _you_ never blame yourself?" Scott replied evenly, and it was Gordon's turn to flinch. "You know what, Gordon, don't lecture me if it's going to make you a hypocrite."

"At least I can _accept_ I'm a hypocrite," Gordon shot back sharply. "At least I _know_ when I need help, at least I _let_ people help me."

Impenetrable silence.

Immediately, Gordon's face cleared, a look of shock sweeping over it as his hand flew to his mouth, a clear sign of his regret etched within his expression. "Scott, I-"

"You're right," his older brother said in a voice so low and quiet that Gordon took an involuntary gasp of breath. "You always let people help. Because there are people _to_ worry about you, Gordon Tracy."

"What-?"

"You can be selfish like that," Scott continued. "I can't, Gordon, I never could have been since I've spent my whole life mopping up after you lot."

"That's-"

"The truth," Scott replied, smiling slightly. "And it's okay, Gordon, because you need me to. You need me to so that you lot can go and achieve your Olympic medals and your astronaut training and all your other sparkling achievements. You need me to support you all, but you don't need _me_."

What scared Gordon the most was how there was not a trace of bitterness in Scott's voice. Eyes wide, the younger of the two reached a hand out towards him, before seemingly thinking better of his actions and dropping it again. "Scott-" he began, but then the door opened and Jeff appeared once again.

"-and you'll need to run through the report with Brains, Virgil. Alan, you might want to go with him, the blue prints for Three are coming on a treat. Gordon – ah, Gordon, you need to tidy your room, it looks as if a bomb's hit it."

"Yeah, I will later," Gordon replied quickly, not taking his eyes away from his eldest brother.

"No, you will now," Jeff said, and his tone indicated the finality of his command. "Hop to it, kid. And if I hear of you roping Tin-Tin into doing it for you again you will not be sitting in on the next mission, young man, understood?"

"Honestly, Father, I'm nineteen years old," Gordon snapped, but Jeff's gaze made him rethink this statement. "I'll go do it now," he sighed finally in defeat, and Jeff clapped his shoulder on the way out, grabbing an apple and turning around as if he hadn't even noticed his eldest son at all. Scott stared after him, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as his father left the room. Then at the final moment, as Scott leant back against the counter, the words he had been waiting for came.

"Scott, my office."

The breath left him in one large exhalation before he nodded, straightening up. "Yes, sir."

The walk to his father's desk was the longest walk Scott had ever faced, despite the fact that it was probably one of the shortest geographically. When he entered, Jeff was writing something, his pen moving slowly across the surface of the paper as his son hovered awkwardly behind one of the chairs.

"Sit down, Scott, you're making the place look untidy." Jeff did not look up once from what he was doing. Scott couldn't help but feel like he was being punished.

With a final flourish of the pen which indicated his signature, Jeff put it down, straightened out the paper and looked up at his eldest, his expression unreadable. "Well?"

"Well what?" Scott hadn't intended to sound that defensive. Jeff's eyebrows raised slightly. Scott backtracked. "The tremors were so unpredictable, Dad – I tried to do something about it, I swear – I tried to give the order to Virg to get them out but the tremors, they just… I couldn't do anything, Dad, I just had to watch, just had to watch them crumble away and-"

"Scott." Jeff's voice was firm, forced Scott to stop in his tracks. "The command didn't get through in time, and there were two fatalities as a result."

"I swear, Dad, I tried, I _tried_, but I just…" He paused for breath, dragging his hands through his dark hair and blinking. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

"You don't need to apologise to me-" Jeff began, but Scott cut him off.

"Yeah, I know that, I know that you're not the one who needs an apology, the people who need an apology are dead."

"Scott," Jeff interrupted, but his voice now had a soft quality to it that caused pain to lance through Scott's stomach. "Scott, we can't save everyone-"

"But we _should_ be able to," Scott replied, and the pain in his voice made Jeff jump slightly. "If I was better, if I was smarter or braver or just _better_ I could have gotten that order in, I could have leapt forward and grabbed them, I could have _saved _them, Dad, I could have, but I'm just so _useless_."

"Scott Tracy," Jeff said firmly, and Scott looked up to meet his eyes. "You are _not_ useless, don't you _ever_ say that."

"But I _am_, Dad." The tone of Scott's voice, the slight self-loathing that seemed to season it, made it feel as if there was a fist closing around Jeff's heart. "John, where do I even start with John? He's so intelligent, he's a flipping astronaut and he's discovered so _much_, and Virg is so artistic and so _bright_, and you know, Gordon might have messed around at school but it doesn't matter when he's got an Olympic medal to compensate, and you know, Alan might have had some disasters in his time but his successes have really outshone them." He paused for a second, a thoughtful frown gracing his face. "You know, apart from that time when he blew up Mrs Lindley's garage; that was pretty bad."

"Yes, and the time he almost damaged the government buildings, don't forget that," Jeff added quietly, and Scott allowed himself a smile.

"The thing is, they've done all of these amazing things, they've achieved all this greatness, and I… I just feel like I pale in insignificance. They're everything, and I'm – well, I'm nothing."

Jeff's arm found its way across the table, closing his hand around Scott's shoulder. "You listen to me right now, Scott Carpenter Tracy," he said, a frown on his face. Scott looked up to meet his eyes. "You are not insignificant. Sure, John and Virgil and Gordon and even Alan have all had their successes, but that doesn't mean to say you haven't, Scott, that doesn't. Besides, they may have succeeded in certain areas, but where would they be without you? Scott, you have been a vital part of this family. You have held it together for near on ten years, and I can never thank you enough, nor can I ever apologise to the extent you deserve. You have supported everyone, _everyone_, through all sorts of hurdles, through your mother's death, through your brothers' schooling, through _every single thing_ this family has had thrown at it. You are the most significant young man I have ever known, and you are stronger than I could ever hope to be. So if you're going to let _one little thing_ render you insignificant-"

"But it's not one little thing," Scott replied painstakingly. "Dad, they were people who could have lived; I could have saved them if I'd just-"

"Okay," Jeff said, and Scott stopped in his tracks. "Tell me what kind of magic you'd have needed to save them."

Scott thought. "Time," he said, and Jeff nodded.

"Okay, time. You know the next tremor is five minutes from now. What are you going to do?"

"Get them off of the cliff edge and into Thunderbird Two," Scott replied, twisting his hands together at the uneasiness of the situation.

"Okay, how long's that going to take?"  
"A minute, two minutes tops," Scott replied. "Dad, what's this got to do with anything-"

"There's another tremor," Jeff interrupted him, ignoring Scott's query completely. "The ground around Thunderbird Two's stationary position cracks. You all perish."

"Dad, that's not fair-"

"Unpredictable tremors," Jeff said simply.

"Yes but… but Dad, what's this-"

Jeff ignored him once again. Instead, he turned his attentions back to the paper in front of him, before he selected a piece and cleared his throat. "In the report, Virgil stated that had Thunderbird Two's take off been more than a few minutes later, then it would have been consumed by a landslide resulting from a further tremor and everyone on board would have perished."

Scott sat in silence.

"Luckily, due to a command given by one Scott Tracy, the take-off was timed at precisely the right moment, resulting in the saving of ten hikers and ensuring the safety of all members of International Rescue currently on call." He smacked the paper on the table to straighten it out before placing it back on the desk. "Scott. I know you feel guilty, and there is nothing I can do to assuage that guilt. You're a Tracy. You'll blame yourself for the rest of your life. But I can't help but feel that saving ten lives, plus ensuring your brothers remained unharmed… I don't think that's an insignificant achievement."

His eldest son remained silent still, staring at his hands as he continued to wring them together. Jeff smiled sadly at him.

"I know you won't believe me," he said softly, replacing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it, "but I'm so proud of you, Scott Tracy. Even if you can be a colossal idiot sometimes. Thinking you're insignificant, honestly."

Scott allowed a small smile to quirk his lips upwards. "Well, you know, I suppose once I've almost blown up a top secret base with a faulty rocket experiment I'll feel a little better," he joked, and Jeff chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't recommend it, son," he said. "But speaking of which, I seem to remember said faulty rocket experiment being cause of someone trying to impress his big brother. Somehow I highly doubt the government almost suffered that day for the sake of someone 'completely insignificant', Scott, don't you?"

Scott shifted and laughed slightly, a sound that made Jeff smile brighter than before.

"You did well, son," he told him, before standing up. "Anyway, I'd better go and check if Gordon's actually tidying his room, or if he's eating cheesepuffs with Tin-Tin again. That boy is hopeless. He seems to think I don't know, but I've seen the packets."

Scott grinned. "Want me to go push him in the pool?"

"Why Scott," he said, adopting a shocked innocence that reminded Scott startlingly of his redheaded brother in that moment, "I would _never_ suggest such a punishment for my son. At least, not publicly. You didn't hear it from me."

"Hear what, sir?"

Jeff grinned. "That's my boy. Anyway, I'd best be off." He moved around the desk towards the door, before pausing and giving Scott's hair an affectionate ruffle. "I'm so proud of you, my little boy."

"Gross, Dad, this isn't a time to get corny," Scott replied, and Jeff laughed.

"It's a father's prerogative."

"Whatever," he replied, and Jeff gave his hair another ruffle, before making to leave, when Scott turned to look at him over the back of his chair. "Oh, wait, Dad?"

"Scott?"

Scott smiled, a genuine, warm smile. "Thanks."

Jeff reciprocated. "Anytime, son, anytime."

**I hope that was okay! D: **

**Rocky  
x**


End file.
